


True Selves

by inkedauthority



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 6B, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cutting, Emotional Abuse, Eventual Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Split Queen, Swan Queen - Freeform, Verbal Abuse, dub con, post 6x13, post engagement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-12 22:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10500651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkedauthority/pseuds/inkedauthority
Summary: Season 6 AU, post ill boding patterns: In which Emma Swan realises with a little nudge the true nature of her fiance Killian Jones, and an Evil Queen who isn't afraid to step in with an alternate agenda that makes the saviour question who she really is, and what her purpose entails. Secrets will come to light, the real beast amongst them revealed, and the crushing expectations of being perfect shattered with one little decision that takes them all down a road of utter confusion.----Or the story of how Killian Jones is a pirate, and will always be a pirate, and perhaps the Evil Queen really isn't that evil to those she might-maybe like a little. Emma certainly isn't afraid to pursue this supposed Evil, and perhaps the tale of her true love isn't as pure and innocent as others may believe.





	1. Self aware

**Author's Note:**

> I watched a few clips of the Swan Queen hug, and decided to kind of rectify that little awkward thing by pushing heaps of meaning into it, and then it turned into this monster that is still going on for a few chapters. I promised a complete fic if Swan Queen made it through to March Madness round 4, and here it is. 
> 
> PLEASE, if you are triggered by the following, do not read this!  
> \- Dubious consent  
> \- cutting/suicide attempt  
> \- possessiveness  
> \- verbal/emotional abuse
> 
> Also note, that I mean no disrespect to the Captain Swan fandom, this is simply a story and the characters were pushed around to adhere to the tale. So if you do like Captain Hook and Captain Swan, TURN BACK NOW. There is nothing good for you here.
> 
> Disclaimer: Only the plot, dialogue, mistakes, and progression of the story are mine. The characters do not belong to me sadly.

** TRUE SELVES by INKEDAUTHORITY **

** Chapter 1: Self aware **

The cool liquid slides down her throat with only a cough of resistance, the taste surprisingly sweet despite its horrid name. Across from her she watches as her fiancé steals the bottle from her, the tangy alcohol finished in one big gulp that punctuates the finality of their actions.

They wait for a beat, two more, and then he sighs out into the open space, his fingers turning the bottle in his hand to inspect the product “It must be broken, love” He says gently “Nothing’s happening”

She too looks confused, snatching the bottle from his hands to read the label faded with age. It was supposed to work, have them both be insanely attracted to each other, but when she looks up at his alluring eyes and smug smile, all she feels is the same level of disgust she had been feeling for well over three years.

“Well it’s good that it didn’t work then. You know, with a price and all” His attempts to console her fall flat, just like they always do, and the blonde doesn’t have the energy to even call him out on it.

She’s been feeling as if the world is supposed to end for the better part of her adult life, but for the first time she actually wants it to swallow her whole. Every morning waking up she asks _why?_ instead of thanking any higher deity that she’s actually alive.

She has a family now, a son and parents who love her, who want the best for her, but all she wants is to be left alone to crumble in peace.

“I think… I’m going to check in with Mom, see if she needs anything” The abrupt move from chair to door has her wince when an arm snakes around her waist, his breath smelling foul and reminding her of that one foster father who couldn’t go an hour without a drink in his hand.

“Don’t leave yet, _Emma_ ” He insists, and she resists the urge to squirm against his grasp “That potion may not have worked, but we still have enough chemistry between us to shake the house up a little. What do you say, love?”

She’s been avoiding him since that night the ring slipped on her finger, complaining about headaches and womanly cramps, but now that she’s run out of excuses, Emma can only turn and smile in his direction, the action seeming strained even for her.

“Anyone could walk in at any moment, Killian. I promised my mom I’d see her this afternoon, and this potion has already taken up so much time. Plus I have that session with Archie in an hour. I can’t be late for that, now can I?” Its almost pathetic how she runs her fingers through his short ebony hair, a sad smile on her face as if leaving him is the worst thing imaginable. She has to make it believable, make it seem as if… as if he’s the only one for her.

“Alright then, Swan. I’ll walk you to your mother’s place and then we can spend the hour together before your session” His arrogant smile makes her cringe just a little bit, but she masks it with a kiss that has her rewarded with a growl into her mouth, one that seeks desperately for something she hasn’t been able to give him without enough energy for a genuine performance.

Unable to wiggle her way out of this one, Emma smiles approvingly at him even if her eyes are soulless and dead, lets him intertwine their fingers together as if he has every right to, and then sets off towards the loft where Emma hopes her mother will go with her lame excuse of visitation.

They walk in silence, occasionally smiling at each other until Killian stops to talk to Archie, the red headed man swinging his umbrella in their direction as he approaches.

“Emma, Killian” The psychologist addresses them cheerily, Emma only attempting a half hearted smile and a “Hey Archie” in response.

“Ah the cricket!” Killian barks, his hooked hand swinging over the psychiatrist’s shoulder “I hear Emma has an appointment with you today, eh?” And his eyebrows raise in a way that causes Emma to shudder. She knows better than to interrupt Killian, to say she had already told him this before they left or that he doesn’t need to investigate into the matter, but the last time she had done that…

“Yes, uh… we have a scheduled appointment in an hour and a half” the cricket turned man answers unsteadily, his voice betraying his obvious confusion as to Killian’s over friendliness.

“An hour and a half” Killian’s voice takes on a contemplative tone before he taps Archie’s shoulder a little too hard and tugs on Emma’s hand to keep them moving “I’ll get her there on time mate!” he calls over his shoulder, watching Archie walk away fully before rounding on Emma, his eyes wide and wild.

“You said an hour, Swan”

“I must have forgotten. It’s only a matter of half an hour”

“And what were you going to do in that extra half hour?” He asks, voice a mere hiss as his fingers squeeze hers too tightly.

“Spend it with you” The answer is almost rehearsed, anything to make the pain in her hand stop, the same hand that shakes every time she has a vision of her future, a sword going through her abdomen in a final blow of death.

“Really now, love?” Killian asks, a smile stretching across his lips as his hand loosens his grip on hers. He seems satisfied that she would want to spend the few extra minutes with him, and even if she did have other plans, the pirate turned hero still insists to walk her wherever she goes.

He’s like a pest she can’t get rid of, but for the sake of her parent’s contentment, she’s more than willing to sacrifice her happiness for a compromise. They had another child because she wasn’t good enough, and if the perfect fairy tale ending is a marriage to a dashing prince and children in the future then she can’t be so selfish to reject that idea when Snow White and Prince Charming positively light up at the thought of little Killians and Emmas.

They reach the loft just as Snow opens the door, a surprised expression passing over her features before it shapes into a radiant joy at seeing her daughter. Killian is a true gentleman then, opening doors and pulling out chairs, offering to make the tea whilst the two ladies chat about the upcoming wedding that’s been rushed due to Emma’s untimely end of a short life.

“So how’s it going?” Snow asks once Killian is out of earshot and Emma hasn’t eased the stiffness in her shoulders just yet.

“Everything is fine. Perfect” Emma answers easily, a believable smile on her face with a practised answer; and what hurts the blonde the most is how her mother believes her, how she sits back in her chair and touches Emma’s arm in reassurance, something about cold feet and big dresses to which the prophesised saviour only nods. They had been roommates once, family with no connections, and now that they know they have each other’s blood flowing through their veins, it seems as if the only thing her parents want to do is ship her off to live her own happily ever after without trying to make up for memories they should have had together.

Casting a weary glance to her baby brother, a child luckier than her, Emma wonders if she will in time grow out of her resentment for a child that did nothing wrong. Occasionally, she finds herself with so much bitterness, she almost feels as if she deserves to be married to Captain Hook of all people- someone who claims to love her despite her many flaws, and who is kind enough to point them out to her repeatedly until she conforms to perfection. That’s what her parents want, don’t they? PERFECTION.

“Emma are you listening, honey?” Snow asks, her fingers entangled with Emma’s, thumb stroking soothingly across her knuckles as if that action alone will solve all her daughter’s problems.

“Yes, sorry” She says guiltily, avoiding Killian’s eyes when he places two cups of tea between them “I was just looking at Neal, he’s grown so fast”

Snow chuckles at this, Killian beaming beside her like a proud trainer. “When you have one of your own, then you’ll see how they shoot up” Its said as if Henry isn’t her son, as if Emma herself hadn’t given Snow the opportunity to watch her grow. It stings, cuts deep where wounds already lay hidden in the dark, but Emma smiles nonetheless.

She knows that her son isn’t really her own, not when he was born out of wedlock whilst she was imprisoned, not when she had given him up to be raised by the evil queen of all people. He’s more Regina’s son than he is hers, and Emma is more an orphan than she is Snow’s child.

A thin smile stretches across her lips when Killian’s hand rubs her shoulder, her own reaching up to pat his fingers affectionately, letting the beaming smile of her mother fuel her bad decisions to allow such an imprisoning relationship to cage her.

“Do you know if there’s any way to break the curse?” She’s asked this at least once every day, and so far the answers have been ranging from desperate hope to glum defeat. After the queen placed the sleeping curse on her parents, it’s as if whoever she needs most is off to slumber land, and the person she’s stuck with only gives into Killian’s whims even further.

“Regina thinks she might have found something, maybe you should check in with her later, find out whether that sword has the potential to break the curse if it can kill the queen” Nodding eagerly, perhaps too much, Emma stills her head when the hand on her shoulder squeezes a little too hard.

“Regina” Killian says bitterly, crossing his hands over his chest “Was the cause of all this bloody nonsense in the first place. If she had learnt to keep her darkness locked up inside, none of us would have suffered. Look at Emma” He points to her as if she’s supposed to know what he’s talking about, and with the hard look in his eyes all she can do is lower her own gaze to the table.

“We all know the evil queen had it in for Emma the moment she rolled into town, you’re telling me she’s not plotting the saviour’s demise?” Emma’s need to defend Regina and the queen alike rise up in her like bile, but she swallows it down with a gulp of tea, Snow’s agreeing hum making her choke just slightly.

His hand rubs her back, pleased with her reaction that’s taken in the wrong way, but before she can hear anymore of their theories regarding the only person who’s been ballsy enough to challenge her, not change her, Emma stands up from the chair with a dramatic shake to her hand.

“I think I need some air.”

“You alright, love?” Killian asks, moving to follow her.

“No, I-I think… I need a minute” Had she said those words when they were alone, she knows full well the treatment she would get, but with Snow’s pleading eyes and subtle nod of approval she so craves, Emma barely makes it out of the loft and into the street without Killian’s possessive eyes following her.

It’s only for a few months, she tells herself, walking aimlessly. She’ll be dead before she knows what abuse really is- but that’s not what Hook does. He’s a good man that wants her in every way, that wants her to be the best version of herself no matter what circumstance; and if she tries to live without him… well, that’s an impossible feat which has been tried and tested. The underworld proved as much when even as she had accepted her fate of losing the only man persistent enough to actually want her, he had risen from his grave to be with her again. They were meant to be if such a miracle happened, and any backing out of a relationship she had fought so hard for would only leave her looking like a fool.

She doesn’t remember reaching the woods, but the infamous well looms before her, the magic from it radiating power unlike any other. It’s dark and cloying, heavy and somewhat light at the same time. The magic that hums its seduction feels a whole lot like her thoughts that bounce from one extreme to another, and perhaps it’s insane to feel so understood by a _well_ of all things, but Emma simply plonks herself down on the floor, the cold stone of the well against her back and closes her eyes to wait for the pain to subside.

It doesn’t. It never does, but the blonde can only hope someone would save her from the misery that seems to eat her up every single minute of every day. She doesn’t know why she feels like this, why there’s a nagging feeling at the back of her head that doesn’t go away, but what Emma does know is that she wants it to stop.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m… okay. I’m A-Okay” The mantra is whispered into the too harsh afternoon, the words on her lips so commonly uttered it’s nothing out of the ordinary for Emma now. She’s not supposed to feel this way, but the shake in her hand is back and visions of her death swirl between Gideon slicing her in half and a life filled with being a perfect princess for a family she never wants to lose.

Curling her body into a small ball so her chin can rest upon her knees, Emma fails to make out the daunting figure drawing closer, the lump in her throat choking her to the point of tears- but that’s probably the reaction to the outdoors, she reasons, not because she has to return to the loft and explain where she had been and with whom.

“My my, is the saviour looking worse for wear” The voice has Emma shudder, weakness being pushed into her back pocket with such ease it should scare her.

“I have no time for your games today” Emma replies, pushing up from the slightly damp floor to brush her palms over her jeans “Whatever you’re planning will be stopped. Good always wins” again, another rehearsed line that sounds flat, that doesn’t erase the look in her eyes that screams _help me._

“And villains always lose, yes yes, I’ve heard it all before, saviour” The dismissiveness with which the woman replies has Emma’s hairs stand on edge, an old familiar anger bubbling up inside her, making her feel more alive than she had been in the last several weeks. The weight of that ring on her finger is heavy now, reminding her to get back home, to spend those minutes with her fiancé because that’s what couples do don’t they? She had watched enough television to know how it’s supposed to work, but something about the pirate keeps Emma edging away from him despite her own attempts at reassuring herself that their relationship is for the best.

“Then you know to believe it. Regina will find a way to defeat you, and then you’ll be gone for good”

“Oh, Regina will, will she?” The evil queen laughs so heartily, that the trees around her shake with laughter too, a slow breeze rustling through their leaves to settle on Emma’s cheeks, a small smile playing on her lips.

“You underestimate her”

“And you _overestimate_ her”

There’s a beat, two more, and the anticipation for a retort has Emma’s skin on fire. The silence holds so many secrets that have been hidden between the breeze now stilling in their standoff, waiting and watching just the same way they do to each other.

“Did you ever love him?” And the question startles Emma when she breaks the silence, her own mouth betraying her with things she vowed never to ask.

The silence stretches on a little longer, Emma’s eyes darting to the floor, body stiffening in anticipation for a punishment that she knows will come regardless of its form. Its habit now, and she hates it.

“Love who?” Picking her eyes up to survey the Queen, Emma’s shock doesn’t seem to be wiped off quickly enough at the confusion on the brunette’s face instead of anger. For someone rumoured to have killed countless people on a whim, she doesn’t seem as harmful as anyone had claimed, including her other half.

“Robin. Did you love Robin?” Why she’s having this conversation in the first place is beyond her, and the itch of worry is beginning to wear down on her sanity when she makes a move further back away from the queen, hoping to make an exit without harm back to the loft in order to face Killian, but what Emma doesn’t expect is a chuckle and raise of an eyebrow as if the question in itself is absurd.

“He was my soulmate- Of course I loved him. But that’s none of your business, now is it saviour?” The slow step forward has Emma flinch just slightly, but the queen only continues her advance until Emma is pressed against the wall of the well with a look of utter terror on her face, the monarch so close she can taste the sweet perfume wafting up from her neck.

“Why do you care whether I loved him or not when you have that pirate to warm your bed and kiss your boots? Do you want to rub it in, _Em-ma?_ Watch me suffer like the deranged creature that you are?” The queen leans forward even more, the stance not unfamiliar to Emma who has had to endure many occasions with which Regina lacked the knowledge of personal space in heated arguments, but this time, instead of Emma facing the queen head on, she shrinks back with a pleading look in her eyes, hands clutching the low wall behind her with a grip that turns her knuckles white.

The last encounter she had with the queen had been with Hook and Henry in tow, the other woman keeping a rather large distance with only a few choice words that she had heard so many times. Even Regina hadn’t been so close to her since the split, since she had entered a relationship with Hook to be precise; and for that Emma doesn’t know whether to be grateful or slightly offended at the conscious effort to put as much distance between them when they had agreed to be friends.

“ _Don’t_ ” The word is so small, the defiance in Emma’s eyes so previously stubborn now diminished with constant bashing from a life she’s convinced herself she needs to live. Even the queen looks disappointed at the lack of retaliation, her brows pulling together in a frown.

“Don’t tell you bitter truths?”

“Just don’t” They’re too close, close enough for the queen to make out Emma’s thick swallow and a stance she too had taken so many times during her reign as the queen of nothing. There’s a familiarity in Emma now that hadn’t been there before, and the queen wonders what it is only to fall short. She isn’t built for empathy, and anything resembling that is out of her depth.

“Are you scared of me, dear?” She asks instead, one painted fingernail running down the side of Emma’s face, her lips curling into a smug smirk at the fact that the saviour with powerful light magic is repelling from her evil existence. It should have always been this way, and the satisfaction at finally breaking the blonde is somewhat anti-climatic with too little effort on her part.

The image of wearing the mighty saviour down had been in the form of locking Emma up in a dark room with a whip in hand and several torture devices to finally tame the wild beast that Snow White had given birth to. This lack of personal space and a few half hearted attempts of insult seems rather… like someone else had been there before her.

“No” If Emma bothered to leave the pathetic whimper out of her voice then perhaps it would have been convincing, but the queen sees right through it, and the effects of such worthless competition has her step back with a sneer on her face.

“Something is wrong with you, saviour” the dark haired monarch snarls, trying but failing to put a smile on her face because she should be happy at the fact that she’s winning, but when has she ever been satisfied with finishing a race? For her it’s all about the chase, the struggle, and the bravery needed to finally earn her happy ending. Not like this. Not with a breath of air to push everything over the edge instead of a boulder.

Emma responds with a wash of angry tears that seem to leak out without her permission, jaw clenched and eyes hard. She doesn’t know why it hurts when she’s been steeling herself against this sort of verbal lashing for almost a year now, but something in her screams out in agony and all the beloved saviour can really do is push away from the well to angrily stomp in a random direction of the forest to hide what has already been exposed.

* * *

 

“I’m happy. I really am” Emma breathes, a forced smile on her lips as she looks up to Killian that has his arm slung around her shoulder, his smile wide and as genuine as hers is fake.

She remembers how he had insisted she was too fragile to go into her therapy session alone when she had come back to the loft with tears in her eyes, fear lining her features as she recounted word for word what had transpired in the forest. She knew better than to lie to him, but lately it seems as if she’s been lying to herself a whole lot more.

Killian had seemed pleased she saw who the queen really was under all that makeup and tight corsets, and insisted that she stick to him like glue because his meagre hook could do a whole lot more damage to the queen than her shaky hand could. She had agreed right away, Snow looking at them like a fan of a television show so deluded by propaganda, the difference between healthy and a lie seeming to blend together to provide a stupid outlook on something that should have been stopped a long time ago.

“How do you feel about the prophecy?” Archie asks, pulling Emma from her thoughts as she turns to regard him for a split second before looking back to Killian, his eyes glinting with a pleased sort of psychotic pleasure that makes her shiver.

“Killian is here to protect me. He’s very handy and resourceful, and even if my end does come, then I know I lived with the man of my dreams, happy and content” Archie should be pointing out how co-dependent they are, that Killian is not supposed to be sitting in her sessions, or know about her most confidential thoughts, but like everyone, they all blow over for the handsome man who has the saviour’s love, and if anything, they all want her to embody the perfect princess that cries for help and gets saved by a man that seems content to play with his ego.

“You know, Emma, I think you’re doing really well. A much better improvement since your previous sessions, and my door is always open, but I think you’re going to be just fine without sessions. Killian seems to have a good influence on you”

Later that night after Emma readily agrees to Archie’s suggestion, leaning on Killian a little more to make it a believable, her lips are wrapped around her fiancé’s length as he thrusts into her mouth with greedy grunts of pleasure. She couldn’t quite hold off on pleasing him any longer when the cause for celebration had been on account of two things: One, that she had finally seen the evil queen for what she really was, and two, that she seemingly needed Hook to survive, that he was the centre of her existence and would always be.

Henry’s in the next room asleep, and although she had told him to hold off on it a little longer for the sanity of her teenaged son whose already seen too much of their makeout sessions, the captain had levelled her with a look that spoke of already being so patient for the past year and a _you owe me this_ whispered in her ear.

She had walked into their room after tucking Henry into bed to the sight of Killian stroking himself, and any protest that could have fallen from her lips were gagged with his … perversions.

This is the first time she’s had to offer her body for the sake of his happiness, and she doesn’t like it one bit, but the squeak of protest she utters comes off as foreplay to the man who is not used to taking no for an answer.

When he finally falls asleep next to her in the early hours of the morning, Emma makes a break for the bathroom to scrub herself raw, tears spilling down her cheeks as she contemplates the unhappiness that seems all too real since that morning. Something had shifted so drastically where Emma had been numb, and now that everything seems to be laid out before her in tiny bursts of senseless actions that do nothing but make her question the ring on her finger, Emma’s not sure how to react to the sudden self awareness.

The shower switches off and once she’s dressed, Emma takes a peek inside their bedroom to find that Killian is still asleep, and probably will be for a long time if the taste of rum on his lips is anything to go by.

Slipping out is easy enough, her old bail bondsperson skills coming in handy when she runs out of the house with her jacket barely slipped over her shoulders, the Well her destination.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise when she sees the Queen standing across the street from her house, hands on her lips and lips pursed in an annoying sort of knowing that makes the saviour’s blood run cold. She wants to run back inside to avoid the woman, but the thought of being with Killian again if he wakes up is enough to have her step forward in anticipation for a confrontation she knows will come.

“Something is wrong, saviour” The queen whispers from the other side of the street, her voice carrying in the wind.

Emma _knows_ everything is wrong, but what can she do besides play happy family with a man that loves her so completely, he’s willing to have her compromise her walls to feel loved and safe? “I don’t know what you’re talking about” She says instead, hands hugging her sides.

“Oh I know you, Emma Swan” The queen says with a shake of a finger in the blonde woman’s direction “And this snivelling pathetic girl is not the saviour I remember” The accusation should hurt, but the truth only makes Emma’s bottom lip tremble in her own degrading sense of self worth.

The silence from the teary-eyed woman has the queen frown, something tugging at her heartstrings where she knows emptiness lies. The stance, the pleading almost weak look is one the queen is all too familiar with, knows all too well how easy it had been for her to slip into a depression that screamed for darkness and a numbness that had everything seem oddly distant but still far too close.

The brisk steps toward the shaking woman who rattles against the wind like a leaf is not something she allows, but the small sliver of good, and what she deems is selfishness has her envelope the saviour in an embrace.

It’s not overly comforting with her sequenced collar and stiff corset, but it does do the trick when Emma seems to collapse against her, tears brushing her neck that fall without abandon on her skin. It feels like rain, soft and warm, and entirely too inappropriate considering her position on matters that affect the saviour.

She’s supposed to hate her, but the queen only holds on tighter when the front door of the house opens, a “SWAN!” causing the blonde to jerk back in fear from the hug she had accepted all too easily.

Everything seems to happen too quickly for Emma’s comprehension then, two people sneering at each other like snakes that coil around her in a suffocating cage. There are arms around her that refuse to let go, a hook that’s curled around her wrist trying to tug her away and yelling, so much yelling.

There are tears too, but that seems to only come from her own eyes as she burrows further into the queen, sobs masked by a shoulder now wet with evidence of her weakness- of the breaking of the all coveted saviour against her greatest enemy no less.

“H-henry” Emma manages to choke out, fingers curling in the Queen’s coat, her mind trying to convince her to let go, to go back to Killian because he isn’t all that bad, he just doesn’t know that he hurts her when she asks for space, or when she has to explain her doings to him down to the detail. He isn’t a bad person, he… he’s… she doesn’t know what he is anymore.

“Please” It’s a plea that falls from her lips just as purple smoke engulfs her, leaves her blinking at the sudden shift before she collapses on the wooden flooring of Gold’s cabin. She’s alone, just as she has always been.

* * *

 

“Make sure that pirate never comes near Henry again!” Her voice is a hiss, teeth bared to her better half as she stares that sleepy woman down. There’s a hardness in Regina’s eyes that look as if she’s been crying for the better part of a few days, and the fact that her presence doesn’t seem to disturb the mayor much has the queen slightly on edge.

“What did you do?” Regina asks, standing toe to toe with the queen, reminding her of the saviour that now sits weeping in Gold’s cabin- away from him.

“Helped her. Now stop asking questions and protect our son” Whether she’s referring to the fact that Henry is shared between Emma and them, or split between two halves of herself, the queen doesn’t specify.

“What happened?” It’s perhaps the most civil conversation they’ve had since the split, and the softening of the queen’s features is enough to have Regina look slightly worried. Something hadn’t happened to Emma had it?

“The pirate happened. You know as well as anyone that time may change, but men don’t” It’s a generalisation of a broad truth because of course not all men are the same, but the subtle referral to her previous marriage has Regina stiffen in horror.

“What did he do?” Because it seems that all she has is questions, and whilst the queen looks agitated, eager to leave, Regina still wants to know every detail so that she can flay the man alive for the sake of her… _friend._

“I don’t know, but I’ve never seen her like this. Something happened… something….”

“I might have-” Regina cuts herself short when the queen rounds on her with wide eyes, accusing and somewhat overly defensive. “Emma asked for something this morning, I gave her a potion… she wanted to amplify their attraction” a wrinkle of their noses makes them both smooth out their expressions when they notice each others reaction, but Regina continues, hands wringing together “I thought… they already loved each other, had enough attraction, and… I gave her a potion that allows the other to see their true selves. If they loved each other so much, they would love every part of them wouldn’t they? I didn’t do anything wrong, I-”

The queen holds up her hand, stopping the mayor’s unnecessary defence. So Emma had seen Hook’s true self? Had seen what he had been doing to her all this time and… Gods, what if this had gone on longer? The need to gloat, to remind Regina that she’s actually the one whose destroying everyone’s happy endings die on her tongue, its not as important anymore when the reality of just what’s happening underneath Storybrooke’s nose hits too close to home.

“Keep Henry safe” she barks out instead, purple smoke clouding her vision before she comes face to face with Emma Swan, a knife to her wrist that has yet to do any damage.

 


	2. No pity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in this chapter (2) include:  
> \- Reference to suicide  
> \- Physical abuse  
> \- Reference to sexual abuse  
> \- Profanity 
> 
> Once again, if you like Captain Swan and Captain Hook I would advise you to back away from this story as it contains a whole lot of content that is not going to sail in a happy direction for either ship or person. I don't want any feelings hurt.
> 
> Disclaimer: Story, plot, writing, mistakes all mine. Characters however do not belong to me.

** TRUE SELVES by INKEDAUTHORITY **

** Chapter 2: No pity **

“Emma” The queen says softly, too soft, too out of character.

Emma picks her head up sharply, bottom lip trembling as fear engulfs her once more, wrapping around her like a too hot blanket that she aches to be rid of, but the terrifying thought of being caught like this has her seriously contemplate the idea of just being done with it. She comes so close too, one fine line that pinches her skin before the knife is gone from her hand, purple smoke the only evidence of theft.

“No! I don’t want your pity!” And perhaps the fact that the fight has come back should be a good sign, but it’s anything but that.

“Do I look like I’m capable of pity?!” The queen barks back, one rough hand gripping the wrist that sports a thin line of red. She’s too rough, and only realises her mistake when Emma backs away in fear, spine hitting the sink behind her with a punishing thud.

“He’ll come back, he always finds me. He’ll say how disappointing I am, that he hates you, that I don’t love him enough to want to spend all my time with him. You did this! I was fine before, I just wanted some air!” The words echo in the cabin as Emma breaks down again. “I just wanted some _air_ ” whispered between them as the queen reaches out for the saviour, one cold hand cupping a wet cheek.

“I loved Robin very much”

It’s the sort of thing no one expects anyone to say during a highly emotional moment, but Emma hiccups at the words, red eyes searching the queen’s brown ones that seem to water at the admission, the touch to her cheek worse than a sting of a slap.

“I’m a villain, Emma, just the same as Hook is” There’s something there, something that has Emma take a deep breath to strain to listen, because the queen shouldn’t be helping her, not when the stakes of her reputation at such deeds are too high to be put at risk, but the question she had asked a day before, standing face to face by the well is now answered, and the hidden curiosity tucked away is being dismantled and treated with utmost care that all the blonde can do is release a tiny shudder of defeat.

“I would hurt _everyone else_ , make them suffer and burn, but I would **never** hurt the ones I love. Mother always said that love is weakness, and perhaps for me it was- _is_. I’ve always been weak for the people I love, always heeded their calls and dared to murder anyone who utter their name wrong. You don’t hurt the people you love, Emma, you hurt _for_ them, even if it’s your own self you have to sacrifice for their happiness”

It says too much, hurts too little to be anything but the truth, but the sad smile that Regina had tossed her when she announced an engagement she had been so ridiculously happy for now makes sense. Did she always love Robin Hood then, or was that reaction for something else entirely? Perhaps the Queen, an evil entity filled with more light than she’s ever seen can provide answers she didn’t know she had questions for.

“It’s not your fault. It’s **his**.”

It’s quite possibly the most cliché thing that anyone has said to her, but for once it’s exactly what she wants to hear. Head leaning into the hand still positioned on her cheek, Emma closes her eyes against the onslaught of emotions that tell her its best if she ran away. She’s always been good at running, leaving behind problems that do no good from carrying them with her, but with so much holding her back, Emma’s not sure she can bring herself to make everyone suffer because she couldn’t for them.

“I don’t want to feel this way”

“You won’t soon. It will all be better once the potion wears off”

“Potion?” Emma asks, swiping beneath her eyes to pull away from the queen. The idea of the woman being kind now a long forgotten thought when the mention of magic comes into play, making the saviour once again suspicious, making her want to go back to Hook- because wasn’t the entire plan of the queen to have them _tear themselves apart?_

“You drank one this morning that makes you see everyone’s true selves. It doesn’t do anything more than make you aware of people and their actions. Once it stops working… you can go right back to being numb” The harshness of _that_ reality has Emma recoil. The Queen is too blunt for her own good, and although a tiny voice tells her that the information is all too knowing, that the helping hand of her enemy should come as a surprise, there’s also that niggling feeling of self doubt that has her turn tail and head for the door.

“Saviour! Wait!” It’s too late before the queen catches up, Emma moving through the woods swiftly and with the practiced ease of having walked them a thousand times.

In the end she winds up at Regina’s door, the loft not an option when she has to face her parents, and there’s also the suspicion that Henry might be _here._

Two knocks and the door opens not a few seconds later, Regina looking worried and vulnerable as she stares at the mess Emma has become. “Something to drink?” The brunette asks, moving away from the door to let the saviour in.

“Your evil half gave me a potion” Emma spits out instead, finding it so much easier to blame everything on the queen when she knows the truth, knows that had the potion been only to show someone’s true self that such reactions through the entire ordeal wouldn’t have garnered such violence. Still, it’s comforting, and that’s all Emma needs.

“Emma, I-” Perhaps its some sort of masochistic need to be punished for her crimes, but Regina barely manages to tell Emma about her potion before the blonde turns around to face her, eyes burning with a fury that’s wild and dangerous.

“I don’t need your pity” She spits, and the words sound as if they have been on the saviour’s tongue more than once “I just want a drink and my son”

_My_ son. Not _our_ son. Not the strong independent Emma Swan she once knew either.

“Maybe you should sleep over. Its late, my guest room is empty and Henry is asleep in his room” the plea is there, one that has Emma swallow thickly at in response, Regina almost expecting a rejection, but when the blonde bobs her head in acceptance, the mayor sighs out a small sound of relief.

“She’s tearing us all apart” Regina hears Emma say when she moves to the kitchen to put the kettle on, well aware that any alcohol in this situation would be bad news.

“She didn’t give you that potion. I did”

The silence that follows has Regina clench her eyes shut in what she knows will be a violent reaction, but instead she gets a small gasp and choked sob that causes her to move around the counter and hesitatingly pat Emma’s shoulder.

“I’m overreacting” Emma gasps out “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. You don’t need this, Henry doesn’t need this. I’m getting married. He’s a g-good guy” The self blame might be getting old, but it’s the only familiar thing that Emma has to hold onto. There must be something wrong with her to choose someone who’s possessive, who makes crude remarks, and drinks by the gallon. There must be a lapse in her judgement to accept his lies and secrets, to take the never ending verbal assaults that are delivered in a joking manner that have her tear up in the bathroom when she excuses herself from his discussions.

“No you’re not” Regina says firmly, still not knowing what to do with her hands because such physical contact between them has never been a thing. She doesn’t know if she will be welcome to offer support like this or whether it will only be taken as a pity move.

“You’re too good for Hook and he knows this. You’re the saviour, a thorn in my side that persists against what she believes is right, and any person, including me, that tries to change you in any way is an absolute idiot” There’s no humour even if a fond smile pulls on her lips, times of great anger than have now become funny stories during family dinners flashing through her memory.

“You don’t know what its like” Emma gasps, pushing away from the awkward pat to sit down on the kitchen stool, hands covering her face as she leans on her elbows “I feel suffocated, like-”

“The walls are closing in and all you want to do is scream but no one hears you. It feels as if you’re in a glass box and everything is happening around you, but you can’t partake in the festivities because it’s a fragile box, and when that breaks the sounds are too loud and he’s pounding on them constantly. I know what it is like, saviour, I know how much it hurts”

Gentle hands pull Emma’s palms away from her face, revealing a mess of blonde hair sticking to cheeks, and wet eyes that go hand in hand with a trembling lower lip.

“I know.” The queen repeats, dragging Emma’s left arm toward her until its face up, an angry line of red exposed to her surveying eyes. A first aid kit is wrenched from Regina’s hands, her eyes wide and disbelieving at how utterly gentle her evil half is. Although, somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembers something so achingly similar after Leopold had come and gone, this persona a comfort for her, one that’s personified with her face and voice, one that extends the same protective care to someone she’s undoubtedly, secretly in love with.

Emma’s eyes never leave the queen’s, questioning green hues dance between the right iris and the left. The queen in turn doesn’t offer anything else, simply wipes away the blood and dresses the wound, her gentle fingers tracing over the lines in the bandage before setting the arm back closer to Emma and away from her. She’s been kind enough for a lifetime, and her patience is vastly running out and into a blinding fury that demands she set the same viper that had tasted Leopold upon Hook, but a stern glare from her other half has her stand up from the stool instead, a look of defiance curling around her lips as she speaks.

“I’m sure you can manage a protection barrier, dear” The queen sneers, still angry, still furious at her other half for abandoning her when all she had done was _protect_. The responding answer from the mayor isn’t heard when she waves her hand, teleporting herself to the exact same spot where she had found Emma a few hours ago, her eyes fixated on the house which is currently being upturned by Hook in a drunken effort to ‘ _find_ ’ his family.

* * *

 

Emma lies awake in Regina’s guest bed later that night, her mouth tasting like that lemon tea she had been served and heart heavy with something unrecognisable.

Sleep calls for her, pulls at her senses more than once to have her slightly doze off before jerking awake again. She’s too vulnerable to sleep, feels too suffocated under the pitying gaze of her supposed best friend- and why she had agreed to staying over in the first place Emma doesn’t really know. What she does know is that she hates feeling weak, and nestled between crisp bedding across the hall from a woman who knows too much about her bad decisions and abusive fiancé, Emma has never felt quite so small.

The bedding is thrown off her with a frustrated sort of anger that’s quiet and seething, white duvet wrestled with for no reason before its spread out on the mattress just as it was before she climbed in to show appreciation of Regina’s charity.

Tiptoeing down the hall, Henry’s bedroom door slightly ajar shows her the teenage sleeping boy with his legs sticking out of his bed, hands on either side like a starfish that she gently eases back inside the blanket with a practised care that had been gifted to her with the year she spent with Henry alone in New York; Regina’s memories providing a backdrop of years she had been absent for her own selfish reasons she hasn’t quite sifted through as yet in her turbulent mind.

As much as her son brings her comfort, there’s a nagging feeling that pulls her from his bed, a voice that tells her she shouldn’t burden him with her problems no matter how conscious he is of it. It isn’t his fault that her decisions have caused their lives to come crumbling down, and seeking comfort from him would be bad, right?

So she leaves, glides down the stairs with caution, careful to feel any creaking stairs that Regina apparently doesn’t have, before making it all the way to the front door and seeing a simmering spell protecting her quickest exit. If this one is guarded, then there’s no doubt that every other window and door is too. Suddenly the walls seem too close for comfort and there’s suspicious dark spots clouding her vision. It’s like prison all over again, and there’s no way to stop it from caging her in.

A desperate urge to escape, an emotion intense and magnifying by the second has her disappear in a cloud of white smoke, her surprise at the magic she hasn’t used as much since erasing the dark one from her existence _nothing_ compared to where she had sent herself.

“Saviour?” The queen asks, dark eyes gleaming in the night, her leather ensemble hiding her well in the shadows across from her house that looks like its been through hell and back.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Emma asks instead, all too easy to counteract the question with another one. Granted the question from the queen isn’t very specific nor descriptive, but she can read between the lines clearly enough to know that the answers sought out about her magic are not something she wants to hand out to her greatest enemy just yet.

“I’m watching” Comes the response, a gentle hand tugging the blonde back into comfort of darkness. “He tore through the house and then fell asleep. I can finish him off if you’d like”

“What? No!” Emma hisses, rubbing her hands up and down her arms in an attempt to retain some of her body heat. In her haste to leave the mansion, she hadn’t bothered with her jacket or shoes, and instead appeared with a tank and borrowed pair of pyjama bottoms from Regina which doesn’t quite go all the way down to her legs.

“Why not? He hurt you didn’t he? And anyone who hurts royalty needs to pay, especially a filthy pirate” A coat that’s heavy and too stiff is draped over Emma’s shoulders in the middle of the queen’s rant, Emma turning with surprise to find the brunette now standing with only her very tight corset and leather pants that cling to her like a second skin.

She remembers a time when she had a tentative sort of relationship with Regina, how she had teased her about her evil queen costumes and whether her bad mood was because her corsets were too tight; now however, Emma only sees this aspect of Regina as someone completely different to whatever she thought her friend represented. The queen embodying a role the saviour is too emotionally exhausted to try and decipher.

“Why are you even helping me? You said it yourself, I am nothing- I’m pointless. So what is all this? Some sort of mind game? A sick twisted version of _what?_   What is it that you want from me?!” Emma’s voice takes on a defensive tone, no longer a quiet hiss in the shadows but a shout that tries to make sense of things happening too fast. She doesn’t know why her magic brought her here, or why the queen is helping. Emma doesn’t know why she even broke the curse in the first place because all this is utter bullshit that she wants to simply get rid off.

She had something good in New York with Henry, all they needed to do was merely leave after finding out who cast the curse and then… let the town figure out the rest. She didn’t need to subject Henry to a life of this misery, to date Captain Hook of all people just to provide a fairy tale outlook on a life her parents want her to have. God, how much she had craved parents only for them to turn out exactly perfect, wanting nothing more than a happiness they think is for her.

There’s tears clinging to her lashes again as she waits for the queen’s response, the other woman’s snarl the only answer she receives for a long time, and Emma thinks that’s okay, even if the coat on her shoulders are warm and the smell different from the Regina who had hugged her not a few days ago, a _“I’m happy for you, Emma. I really am”_ dropped on her shoulder as she squeezed too tight. _That_ Regina had smelt like soap and lavender, a spritz of light rose scented perfume that was light and airy, but this version smells like musky heat and spicy herbs mingled with a desperation Emma knows too well from her own lonely life.

“It’s what I do” the monarch finally answers, eyes hard, voice rough around the edges “It’s what I did before she threw me out like last week’s garbage. You think I didn’t have to put up with Leopold forcing himself on me every single month to beget an heir?!” Despite the roughness the queen’s voice gets louder, and the panic Emma feels only intensifies as the queen stomps forward, nose too close, lips practically tasting Emma’s breath.

“I made her **strong**. I made her stand up for herself. _I_ am the one who conquered kingdoms and killed Kings unworthy of love, and I am the one who will continue to do what’s right in order to protect the people I-” She pauses, jaw clenching together to bite back the words that sit on her tongue.

“So I’m just a project then? Another pity case for you to-” Emma makes air quotes around the words “save and protect?” A scoff greets the queen then, coat being thrown at the monarch in a harsh rejection of help she so desperately craves. “I don’t need your damn pity”

“You forget that I’m evil, dear” The queen drawls, pulling on her coat with an ease that makes Emma jealous. “I offer protection _once_ , and if rejected, then I leave you to swim on your own in a sea of sharks that will do nothing but tear you limb from limb just for a taste of what they decide isn’t suited to their palates”

The analogy has Emma swallow, knowing full well how people  _use_ just for the sake of it and then throw away. Hasn’t her parents already done that? A year and then they decide they’ve had enough, another fresh start on its way in the form of her baby brother. They don’t even look at her anymore, simply stare straight through her and her fake happiness with Killian; worthless, baseless words being thrown at her in some form of parental positivity she can read off inspirational quotes from twitter.

Hasn’t Henry done that too? He’s angry with her more often than not, absorbed with Violet that steals her son’s time with promise of activities she’s too old to participate in when not so long ago she had been the _cool_ mom. Regina’s been avoiding her so much lately, keeping her distance and offering her plastic smiles when she says anything, And every conversation they have seems to revolve around their soul mates, Regina herself and the issues that seem to follow her wherever she goes, or _Henry…_ who doesn’t talk to her anymore.

And then there’s Hook who chases after her, wants her in all ways but fails to _listen_. For a three hundred year old pirate, his ways are rather old fashioned. Its still a miracle he tolerates her in jeans, although even that had changed over the course of a few weeks, subtle hints of _Dress like a kept lady now, Swan_ drifting through their mornings when she dresses to go to work.

“I don’t understand you. It makes no sense… you’re the worst parts of Regina!”

The queen sighs through her deflection, buttoning up the fabric to brush it down with her palms once she’s done “I thought we’ve been through this already, Miss Swan. I am simply the honest part… or the part of Regina that was formed after people began to take advantage of her. I was made to make her strong, and I did that, but you lot have turned her against me, and for that your parents paid.” Its said with such nonchalance that Emma wants to simply choke the life out the queen, make her pay for her own crimes that has so far ruined any chance of happiness in Emma’s own life.

She vaguely remembers a wish of not being the saviour, one that sent her far away but kept her happy, so happy that the idea of simply staying had crossed her mind more than once.

She wonders if… **No**. Such things are not meant to be brought up, especially when that land, that life was _fake._

“I hate you” Emma says instead, so desperately eager to blame the queen for everything when her thoughts and emotions are a turbulent mess. She’s just been through a self awakening trauma and now that everything seems clear as day, Emma wonders if the potion was actually just a farce. There’s no way that the evil queen is actually a caring sort of guardian that’s just been cut loose, and there isn’t any chance that Regina is a hovering awkward woman with too much to say but no courage to simply blurt it out.

The queen’s eyebrow raises with an odd curiosity and pursed lips, patience thick between them. The understanding in the brunette’s eyes has Emma almost want to break down into tears again, but she holds it back long enough to have the queen’s eyes drop to the floor between them, a sigh breaking the silence with a small, sad smile.

Despite what Emma thinks the monarch should have done, the queen simply steps back away from her personal space and watches her with eyes that see too much. And Emma in turn stares straight back, her resolve only breaking when she takes a seat on the pavement and hugs her middle, gaze turning instead to the house that rests without movement.

The queen stands for however long Emma sits there, shifting from foot to foot in those high heels that obviously must make her feet ache. Still, the commitment to her task astounds Emma enough to maybe once or twice gaze up in adoration and wonder- the very same feelings she had been levelled with whilst cursed in a wish realm with dusty portraits of the Evil Queen and a feeling of yearning in her chest. Princess Emma had thought Queen Regina beautiful, wanted to know more about her, wanted to meet her, ask her questions and become her _friend_. Little did she know that in another life she had been fighting with the object of her affections for almost five years.

They sit like that for a long time until the sun starts to come up, the golden glow across the sky making Emma forget everything for just a split second, allowing her to feel small and weightless in a sea of possibilities that can take her in any direction she wants.

Every day the sun comes and goes without prompting, it knows it purpose, sets the sky alight with its fire and has energy which people dictate their lives to. Regina is like the sun in their curse created town, and now that there’s two of them, people haven’t got a clue as to which one to fear and follow, much less Emma.

Pushing up from the cold pavement with a leg that’s fallen asleep, Emma leans on the queen who grips her arm as she lets the pins and needles take it course. “Thank you” the blonde rasps, _thank you for everything_.

* * *

 

The queen is still holding her hand when they walk towards the woods, Emma’s feet clad in her knee high boots from Regina’s house with a little help from the queen’s magic (which makes for a hilarious outfit), but the saviour doesn’t complain, especially when she lets her hand slide up so that their fingers can intertwine.

Its hero worship, she thinks. It definitely is… probably.

“You’re not all that evil, you know”

The queen chuckles at the first words out of the saviour’s mouth since they had left their night watch, Hook still sleeping and Emma feeling safe enough to leave him behind and retreat back to Gold’s cabin where the questioning eyes of her better half can’t follow.

“So you say” The queen answers, a fond smile on her lips as she looks to Emma, eyes swimming with mirth. This is comfortable for her, this feeling of making someone feel safe and wanted despite their brokenness.

“You haven’t tried to kill me in the last day even if you had the opportunity” Emma shrugs as if its everyday conversation, the queen halting their walk to turn fully towards the saviour, an eyebrow raised in question.

“You think the split worked exactly the way Jekyll _that fool_ expected it to? It was his first attempt at the potion, the beast doesn’t come out beastly and the good part doesn’t come out a saint. There are… glitches” The revealing of such crucial information has Emma bark out a laugh, the explanation so simple yet entirely uncalled for.

“So you are capable of love?” The blonde asks, tugging on their hands to move them further into the woods, the cabin looming before them.

“I am” comes the solemn reply, fingers squeezing Emma’s own a little harder than intended.

They don’t enter the cabin when Emma hears this. It’s too much to digest, too much to work around when she’s only just thrown her engagement in the face of a man she’s supposed to love.

It’s only then that she remembers the ring on her finger, one she hasn’t quite taken out. Her eyes drift toward the glinting piece of jewellery shining through the queen’s fingers where her own are locked in an intimate embrace.

She’s read about abuse victims and the trauma that comes with it, seen first hand how broken people can come to the point of taking their own life- and in some way Emma herself had experienced almost everything on that list, but the feeling of utter longing that comes from the core of her soul is not one she associates with healing.

“Why are you telling me this?” Because there’s too much happening in her head right now, and things that are supposed to make sense just jumble up together until it looks as if it’s an inconceivable mess.

“Oh, _Emma_ ” The dark haired monarch sighs, a tender touch against the saviour’s cheek making the blonde shudder out a breath. It’s the first time she’s said her name out loud, and the emotional baggage that comes with it is entirely too open for interpretation. Still, there’s a confusion within the saviour, and the chaos that had ensued in the last day and a half are all too much to be cryptic and understood; so she steps closer, thumb brushing along Emma’s bottom lip as she brings their gazes up to connect.

“You’re the saviour, you see everything in black and white. And maybe… once, long ago, I might have thought you able to see things in grey, but I know more than anyone what it feels like to change yourself in order to be accepted. I know you want to Snow and David to love you. I know… _I know_   too much” Her voice lowers to a whisper, leaning in as if to tell a secret just meant for them. And Emma closes her eyes against the feel of the queen’s lashes fluttering against her cheek, forehead resting on her brow, waiting for an answer… for _something._

“You don’t have to change for me.”

They don’t kiss even if the queen’s words are whispered against her lips, even if Emma desperately wants to close the gap between them for reasons that wish to be uncovered but remain behind closed doors in the name of fear.

She remembers when she had first rolled into town: Leather jacket and arrogant attitude, a _I have no time for this_ caught on her tongue when she dropped her son off at his too big house with his too loving mother, and a bitter jealousy had risen up in her like a gentle wind to a dying flame. It was there that she first saw Regina with her tight dress and dark eyes, saw inside her home and marvelled at its cleanliness, and then she had said her goodbyes because that woman was out of her league.

She was unlovable back then, only a one night stand kind of girl, but now with parents that expect her to be happy with their scarce presence and half hearted attempts at bonding, she wonders if that old Emma Swan that caused a spark in Regina’s eyes whenever they fought is actually better than the timid princess she pretends to be now.

“It’s complicated isn’t it?” And she doesn’t want it to be, but to hear that chuckle against her chin and a light back in Regina’s- no, the Queen’s eyes, it’s almost entirely too worth it; because the old Emma was complicated too wasn’t she?

The queen opens her mouth to speak, stepping back just slightly to provide much needed space between them when she goes flying back, a grunt escaping her lips with the fall.

“Emma, lets go!” She hears and almost turns to the crumpled mess of a queen, because isn’t that her voice?

“Emma! NOW!” oh no _. Oh no no no n-_

And then she’s yanked back, an all too familiar arm around her waist, and there’s handcuffs that look just as equally familiar and… and so much, too much. How long was that potion supposed to last anyways? She doesn’t care now, doesn’t even need to know before her world goes blank and her chest stops heaving in its effort to grab as much air as possible.

* * *

 

A panic attack. She had a freaking panic attack.

Three faces hover above her, little light or air making its way through their anxious expressions.  “Emma?” One of the blurry blobs asks, and Emma has to swat that one away because their breath is hot and too close.

“Emma, honey, look at me” This one is brave enough to cup her cheek, but that too gets swatted away because it’s still too hot and Emma can’t breathe through all the concern. She just wants to sleep, wants to black out the world again because the first time had been rather nice.

“Love, wake up” And surprisingly its this one she listens to, not because it asks, but because its voice brings memories to the forefront of her mind, and the instinctive reaction to jerk away has her vision focus again.

“Killian?” She asks, leaning into the person she recognises as Snow once she pushes off from the overly pillowed bed.

“Aye” He says gently, taking her hand as if he had never squeezed it brutally before her therapy session. “You’re safe now” He says it with such conviction that all Emma can do is frown at his faux heroism and search the room for someone who really does have the answers.

Henry sulks in the corner, David is nowhere to be found (probably asleep then), and Regina holds a tray in her hand that quickly gets emptied by passing out hot beverages to everyone. Emma doesn’t get one, but she isn’t in a mood for another one of the mayor’s special teas.

“Henry?” Emma calls, slipping her hand out from Killian’s to offer it to her son instead. The boy glares at it for a few seconds before bounding over, his too long arms wrapping around her frame and holding her tight. She doesn’t know how he does it, but he curls into her so gently, so perfectly, that all she can do is hold him just the same way Snow does her from behind.

“I swatted you away, huh?” And Henry bobs his head against her chest just slightly, his hair being ruffled with a tenderness that had seemingly disappeared since she started dating Hook.

“Are you alright, love? The queen did a number on you, had to drag you away from there before she tore your heart out”

This only seems to earn Killian a scowl, Snow whispering reassurances in her ear that the man is right, that the engagement ring on her finger is there for a reason. _The potion has wore off_ , someone says, and Emma thinks she has never seen quite so clearly before.

“I need a shower, some space, and a strong cup of coffee” Henry pushes off her gently when she rattles off the three things that come to mind, but the grin he shoots her when she slips out from under the covers is enough to have her happily bound up the stairs to the bathroom instead.

When she returns from her five minute scrub session sporting her tightest of black jeans and white sweater top, four pairs of eyes turn toward her with a mix of recognition, shock, and wonderment. Her hair is messily curled, a spark back in her eyes, and the bounce in her step reminds them all too much of the Emma before the curse broke, a woman that Killian doesn’t recognise nor remembers meeting at all.

“Kid you wanna get something from Grannys?” The red leather jacket is pulled over her shoulders, her grin wide and somewhat unhinged, but her son nods all the same, looking as if he hadn’t aged since the first time he had climbed into her bug looking for an adventure.

“Emma you just recovered, you need to rest!” Snow’s voice halts her exit when she slings her arm over Henry’s shoulder, the action not quite as easy as it had been a few years back, but her mother certainly deserves some type of acknowledgement even if turning to face the three people standing from their seats at the kitchen table makes her eye twitch.

“I’ve been sleeping for a long time, and I don’t want to be oblivious to anything any longer”

“But-” Killian’s voice breaks through, a hardness there that she would have ignored usually, but the blatant dominance he wishes to insert into her time to speak only has her eyes roll. She’s not going to change for anyone anytime soon, not when she’s just right for someone who wants nothing more from her than to be open to the possibility of love.

The ring still on her finger is removed, left precariously on the edge of Killian’s chair before she takes a step back, the stench of alcohol on him too much to handle even if she’s putting up a front of bravery. Nothing is going to heal in a day, but the first step to becoming herself again is to take no shit- and unfortunately, Captain Hook is 300 years full of it.

“We’re not made for each other, Hook” Its satisfying how he winces at that name “I’ve changed too much for you, for everyone, and now I’m going to go after the happy ending that I deserve, not the one everyone thinks I do. You can pack up your things and reclaim your bed at the Jolly Rodger. You deserve someone who will cater to your needs better than I did.”

She can see the way his jaw works, the presence of his possible mother-in-law no longer a safety net for Emma to get away with her supposed bad behaviour. “You’re making a big mistake, Swan. You won’t find anyone who loves you as much as I do”

His fingers curl around the ring, hard eyes raking over her body. She can feel the explosion that’s about to come, and the fear creeping up her spine is enough to push Henry out of the way and toward the door. She doesn’t want him to see this, even if she can feel his smile pressed against her back from where he hugs her.

“Henry go to the car” Its whispered just in time, just as the keys are taken from her hand and Henry is out of the door with a little push from her magic, because Hook bares down with all his might, ringed fingers connecting with her jaw to send her flying.

“You’re nothing more than the women I used to pick up from the side of the road! Nothing more than an orphan I tried to love! You ungrateful spoiled brat!” His hand raises again, hook glinting in the light, and Emma thinks this is the end, even her magic doesn’t come to her aid- its not like she’s thinking about it anyways.

She waits, and waits, but the blow doesn’t come.

“How **DARE** you?!” She hears instead, bringing her hand up to touch her jaw, tears stinging at her eyes even if she refuses to let them fall “How dare you touch her, you _-you filthy fucking man whore?!_ ”

The voice roars, growls, spits at the man dangling from above them, turning with the ceiling fan faster and faster the angrier her saviour gets. She only manages a strangled laugh before her ex-fiancé is brought back down again, Snow slapping him with tears in her eyes, choking on the betrayal of her daughter’s perfect ending. 

What gets Emma the most however, is that the person shaking her fist with bloodshot eyes isn’t the queen- Its _Regina_. The mayor dressed in comfortable pants and kitty heels, the woman who… who hugged her with a congratulations and then let go just as quickly.

Their eyes meet, and for the first time, Emma finally sees the queen within her, sees the obvious _glitch_ as the monarch had called it back when the simplest of things for Emma had been deemed complicated; and the saviour with a rapidly swelling jaw, heart in all the wrong places and probably years needed to simply _heal_ doesn’t know what she wants anymore.

 


	3. Selfish reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in this chapter include:  
> \- profanity  
> \- an allusion to domestic abuse & sexual assault

** TRUE SELVES by INKEDAUTHORITY **

** Chapter 3: Selfish reasons **

 

There’s a flurry of movement after that, Emma’s jaw getting treated with a spectacularly helpful frozen bag of peas, and Snow fussing over her with tears in her eyes that make the blonde want to vomit for more reasons than her entire life now being laid open like a discarded book on the side of the road; _ironic_ considering that’s where she was found- or thought she was found… anyways the side of the road is somewhat laughable and Emma’s not thinking very straight.

Another bad joke apparently, because…. well, too many reasons to comprehend. But she does laugh, _laughs and laughs_ until she’s gasping for air and she’s pretty sure Snow is looking at her as if she’s just managed to procure another head.

It’s glorious.

After two heaving breaths and a small _“ow”_ when the bag of peas is pressed to her face harder than intended, Emma sits back and surveys the situation with a critical eye that hasn’t been used since her bounty hunting days.

She sees Hook now in a chair, rope binding his arms and getting tighter as he struggles, Regina standing over him with a very scary expression, and Snow hovering with a spare bag of frozen vegetables in case she manages to melt through the peas. Henry is probably still waiting in the car (Thank God. She doesn’t need the kid to witness such traumatic events. Emma herself had seen too much with drunk foster fathers in numerous homes, and is still possibly a little shaken up from that alone), and that leaves _her_ slouched on the floor with iced up peas on her face and eyes darting around trying to make sense of everything.

Emma knows that she’s comprehending things as if it’s disconnected from her, but she’s also pretty sure that should she delve into her feelings then she probably wouldn’t be able to escape _that_ void, and right now she needs as much wits about her as she can manage.

“I need Dad” The saviour says eventually, ignoring her mother’s crestfallen expression. “ _Please_ ” At that Snow finally relents, leaving the frozen vegetables on the kitchen counter before leaning down to kiss her daughter’s forehead and whispering a soft, heartfelt “I love you” in her ear.

The house is eerily silent afterward, Regina not doing or saying anything other than staring Hook down, and even the pirate’s profanities had stopped after the first three seconds when Emma suspects the brunette had put a silencing spell on him. The mayor’s back is turned to her, but the blonde can make out the stiff muscles beneath her sweater and see the clenching and unclenching of her fists that rest tightly at her sides. The stifling silence however, is interrupted when David blows right through the door, the wooden frame bouncing with his aggression, and Emma visibly flinches at the violence before she can stop herself.

There’s a video playing on David’s phone, most likely on a loop, and all it says in Snow’s voice is _“Hook hurt Emma, she needs you”_ over and over again.

It’s undoubtedly the gentleman in her father that pats Regina on her shoulder before he gathers Emma in his arms, her not so small body fitting perfectly to rest against his broad chest. Its then that she cries, the world no longer existent when everything in sight is blocked out by strong arms and a murmuring of affectionate words that go over her head. He holds her as long as she clings onto him, tears and snot marring his jacket, and only let’s go when the hiccupping sobs subside.

“What do you need?” David asks, running his fingers through his daughter’s golden hair.

“I want you to punch him in the face” Emma hisses harshly, fists curling into the cotton t-shirt over her father’s heart.

 _“Gladly”_ He releases her completely then, Regina moving to make way for David before he rounds on the pirate. David is anything but charming, hissing words in the other man’s face in a tone so low, Emma has to struggle to hear. For this, Killian is quiet, eyes hard as he stares at his supposed best friend, jaw clenching in what she assumes is a cold blooded guilt for all the wrong reasons.

She has to stop watching after a few seconds because David raises his fist and it’s all too much. The only person who has had eyes on her the entire time must notice, because a throat is cleared and then there’s the sound of a chair being dragged, a door opening and painful howls that seem to originate from the backyard.

“Are you okay?” Tentative fingers touch her chin, brown eyes swimming with concern.

“I don’t know” Emma answers honestly, eyebrows scrunching in pain at having to move her jaw.

“I can heal it” Regina offers, voice breathless and sounding much like the personification of _agony._

“You can’t heal everything” And it’s the most raw Emma has ever seen Regina when she looks up at her: brown eyes watering with unshed tears, fingers curling in on themselves to create a fist and anger that rises up in the form of a scowl. She’s dangerous and beautiful all at once, and Emma doesn’t know what to do with this information.

 “Just take care of Hook. Make sure… make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else ever again” It’s the only reprieve Emma can give Regina from her churning thoughts, and the mayor takes it with open arms because at least _that_ she can do.

“I’m going to heal it” The brunette says instead, the meaning running so deep Emma almost wants to laugh again, but she stays still long enough for Regina to wave her hand over the angry jawline and restore it back to full health.

“Thank you”

 _No, Thank you_ , Regina wants to say, and Emma only smiles at her in a way that suggests she knows for what, and why.

* * *

 

“I’m okay, Kid.” Emma says for the hundredth time that day. Henry is sitting beside her in the passenger seat of the bug, sipping a takeout cup of hot coca and munching on a chocolate donut she had bought for him during their small pit stop at Grannys.

“No one will tell me anything, and I know you’re hiding something from me” Henry’s self righteous streak must come from Regina, because Emma doesn’t remember ever being this annoying.

After that fateful day when he had almost witnessed his superhero mom become a punching bag, Snow had taken him with her to the loft on her way to fetch David, and although she had discreetly made that video, David himself wasn’t very careful whilst opening it. Henry of course had been alarmed, knowing that something happened but not the full extent of it. Thankfully, Regina had been quick enough to take Hook to an unknown location with a bleeding face after healing David’s knuckles for the third time so he could keep going, and her son had arrived to a relatively empty house with only a chair missing and the father and daughter duo cuddled up on the couch.

He hasn’t brought the topic up in the last week since then, and honestly Emma is a little surprised he lasted that long. She knows the week hasn’t been easy on him, what with Emma refusing to see anyone, or talk to them other the odd text to Henry telling him she was okay when she clearly wasn’t; but he has Regina and her parents- and even on the rare occasion, Mr Gold. If she didn’t feel safe taking a little leave of absence, then she wouldn’t have done it even if her insides were falling apart.

“I broke up with Hook because I was compromising who I was. He didn’t take it too well is all” Ruffling his hair affectionately, a habit Emma reminds herself to let go of now that he’s old enough to glower at her for messing up his perfectly gelled hair, the blonde settles into her seat a little more comfortably and takes the scenery of the harbour in.

“So you’re happy now?” Henry asks tentatively, turning to rest on his shoulder in order to see his mother a little more clearly. She’s looking better than before, colour in her cheeks and eyes not as dull as they were, but there’s still something vaguely off about her and he can’t figure out what.

“I…” Emma trails off, not wanting to lie to her son, but still trying in a desperate attempt to protect him at the same time “I _want_ to be. I think I maybe can be, but this town, this job as saviour… I need a break” She looks at him as she says this, forsaking the view for his expressions that shift from inquisitive to horrified.

“You’re leaving?!” He’s aghast now, half empty takeout cup shoved into the cup holder by the gearstick, his eyebrows pulled together in an angry frown.

“Henry…” What more can she do but sigh his name softly? Her coffee now joining his hot coca. “Its not forever. It’s just for a little while, and you can come visit as much as you want, and sometimes I’ll come down here.”

“No!” He yells, and then the car door is opening and he’s spilling out of it to take off in a sprint down the harbour and away from her. She wants to run after him, but she hasn’t the energy, so Emma starts the car and drives along the road, coming up beside Henry who huffs and puffs in his attempt to outrun the bug.

“Henry listen to me!” She shouts through the open window “I need this”

“You’re leaving me!” He shouts back, and the crushing feeling of her own abandonment issues empathises with his.

Its then that she switches the car off and puts all her energy into sprinting down the harbour and catching up with her son whom she engulfs in a hug that’s a little awkward now that he’s slightly taller than her. He struggles for a few seconds before finally relenting with loose limbs hanging by his sides and tears tainting her leather jacket with his defeated sobs.

“I need time to figure out who I am, Henry. I would never leave you, I love you too much, but I… I’m not the best person to be around right now.”

“I can help you” He whines desperately against her shoulder, arms finally lifting to circle her waist.

“Not with this, baby” And he knows she’s telling the truth because it’s the first time she’s used such an affectionate term with him, one that reminds the boy of his age and that the woman clutching him regards him as something _important_. It’s not enough to ease his fear of her never coming back, but he knows that if he has to secure this town in her heart, then he has to produce a solid reason for her to return, or stay altogether.

* * *

 

Henry hates hospitals. Especially since that time he almost died; but then the best memories he has are in hospitals, like Emma breaking the curse, or meeting his grandfather for the first time, and he hopes that they move their location of good and bad to somewhere that isn’t sterile and crawling with the oddest characters.

His birthday is punched in into the keypad, the door pushing open with the help of his shoulder, and a takeout cup of tea is handed to Nurse Ratchet with what he hopes is enough sleeping pills to last an hour or two. He doesn’t have to wait long then, his hands cramping from stacking files and labelling in his excuse to stick around, the grumpy blonde woman slumping over in her seat none too subtly.

He positions her a little more comfortably out of the kindness of his heart and sympathy for her neck before grabbing the relevant keys and darting down the passageway to the only closed off door there is, fingers fumbling with nerves as the lock clicks out of place, allowing him to take a deep breath and then push the padded door open to reveal the person he’s been searching for, for three days now.

* * *

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Emma” Regina says stiffly, hands shaking as she pushes the neatly folded dishtowel into the handle of the oven.

“Something more than _‘oh’_ would be nice” Emma snaps, and she swears she sees a hint of a smile on the brunette’s face, but doesn’t know why.

“What difference would it make when you’re stubborn, idiotic, and headstrong, and-” _gorgeous_. Regina catches herself just in time, lips pursing in annoyance of her own near slipup. Emma had just gotten out of an abusive relationship and another one is not what she needs. What she needs is time to find herself knowing that she has all the support of her family should she decide to embark on a journey of self discovery.

Regina knows that it’s important to have that; after all, she herself had taken that serum based on the knowledge that no matter the outcome, she would still have a family who would love her regardless. And true to their word, Snow White included, they had stuck by her through curses and chaos issued by her evil half.

“Idiotic… yeah, I got that” Regina wants to smack herself on the head for saying such insensitive things, because as much as Emma is somewhat herself again, she’s still _… fragile_ , and even if all Regina wants to do is kiss her boo boos and feed her comfort food, cuddle with Emma on the couch and give her the world, she can’t let the overflowing of love that’s bursting from her chest show. Not when the saviour who had unravelled her curse is obviously not ready for anything more than what she has on her plate right now.

“Emma, please… I don’t- I don’t want you to go, but if this is something you need to do, then maybe don’t go so far?” She’s desperate for a compromise, but Emma shakes her head in the negative.

“I need to be in the city. I want my old job back, I want the busy life that… I just want to get lost in it again and- I just don’t want to be here okay?” And if Regina thought she was desperate, then Emma surpasses that by miles.

“He won’t hurt you again, you know” At this Emma perks up, eyes wide and inquisitive, but still laced with a tinge of fear. She hasn’t asked about her ex-fiancé just as Henry hadn’t asked about what happened to Emma since she gave the ring back, but Regina figures the saviour needs to know.

“I… gave him memories” She admits reluctantly, eyes darting to the far corner of the kitchen “He screamed for days, begging me to stop. I didn’t touch him, even if I **wanted** to-” The hard edge of her tone is smoothed out before she can get ahead of herself, but it’s Emma who gently touches her arm begging for her to continue. Perhaps it’s masochistic for her to want to know, but she did care for him at some point, and love like that never goes away even if you know it wasn’t very healthy or real as it should be.

“I gave him my memories, and a few girls who had been through the same thing. They volunteered almost immediately. I think they wanted to see justice served even if their old husbands are dead and buried. Anyways… whatever he put you through, he’s felt it a dozen times and in different variations. I don’t think he’s ever going to repeat his actions” Perhaps it was cruel of her to do such a thing to him knowing how damaging it still is for her to think about her old marriage, but that pirate touched _her_ saviour, and anyone who dares hurt the ones she loves gets their own medicine spoon fed to them at an excruciatingly slow pace with just as much pain in each serving.

The hug catches Regina off guard then, wind being knocked out of her as Emma engulfs her in the smell of coffee and soap. She stands there for a good few seconds before her body relaxes into it, arms coming up to wrap around leather clad shoulders and pull the blonde closer to her. It’s a hug that they deserved to be their first, and Regina had to go and ruin it over a pirate that’s no longer an issue. She would laugh, but Regina’s too busy closing her eyes and trying to memorise the way Emma fits so perfectly against her.

“Where is he now?” She almost misses the question, but when she does hear it, a wicked grin stretches across her lips, arms squeezing a little tighter when Emma shifts.

“Sailing the infinite sea” She answers smugly “Without a crew” and then presses an affectionate kiss to Emma’s hair when the blonde snorts out a wet laugh.

* * *

 

“She’s gonna leave and then never come back! And I hate her so much because she doesn’t trust me enough to– to tell me what’s wrong!” Henry whines brokenly, his tears making him hiccup.

He’s almost a grown man now, and the fact that he’s pressed against his mother, head tucked in the crook of her neck and crying over his _other_ mother isn’t very supportive of the image he has in his mind of what manhood means. Still, the Queen holds him against her, cooing sweet things in his ear even with the awkward angle she has to manoeuvre her hands in with the cuffs restricting her movement.

“I don’t want her to go!”

“Oh Henry” The queen says softly, stroking his back as best as she can, head pressed against his to offer as much comfort as possible. To say it had been a surprise to see her son at the entrance to her new home was an understatement, but to have him take one look at her, long and hard, and then launch into her arms crying for a good five minutes was positively alarming. Later when she got just why, the queen had gone from furious at whoever made her son cry to curious as to why Emma wanted to leave in the first place.

She hasn’t gotten much out of the boy beside Miss Swan’s travel arrangements, but she’ll be damned to lose this precious moments of comforting her son because she has _questions._

“You have to help me” Henry says a few minutes later when his breath comes out ragged but is stable enough to offer up a few words.

The queen with Cora’s cuff on her wrist blocking her magic, Hyde’s special handcuffs on her wrists and her boy practically in her lap is all too content to agree to anything as long as she keeps Henry with her like this, actually needing her beyond being the vessel for Regina’s darkness.

“If Miss Swan wants to leave, then she isn’t a very good mother leaving you behind- you are _staying_ , aren’t you?” And for a second the fears she had during the first curse come rising up again, the birthmother ripping her son from her arms; but Henry simply nods, burrowing even closer to her in what she assumes is disappointment.

“Well” _its about time_ “we always knew she was going to leave, perhaps she will come back one day” Although the idea of Emma leaving after everything they had been through in the past week and half has her visibly deflate and take as much comfort from her son as she offers him. She hadn’t been lying when she said she maybe… _liked_ Emma ( _love_ is too strong a word even if her heart thumps a little faster because of it), and the heartbreak that will inevitably come with the saviour’s departure makes her glad she’s alone in the mental asylum to scream and scream with no one the wiser.

“Mom, please” Henry whines, offers her his best puppy dog eyes and the queen melts at the term of relation like an ice cream in an oven.

“What will you have me do, my little prince?” And its then that Henry cracks a watery smile at her, shifting to move away from her hold but still within reach, his nimble fingers slotting a hairpin into the handcuffs to try and pry the metal restrictors apart.

“I have a list” he says, boyish grin being offered up despite his tear streaked face and still slightly hiccupping breaths, the handcuffs clicking out of place to release his mother’s wrists “And I’m sure you’ll do everything on it”

She’ll follow her boy to the ends of the earth if he keeps looking at her like that, but he knows it all too well and secures her agreement with a hug that she’s finally able to return properly without her restraints.

* * *

 

“Going somewhere, saviour?” The queen asks, inspecting her nails as she leans on the hood of the yellow bug.

“I’ve been looking for you for weeks! Everyone has!” Emma’s anger is rightly justified, especially since her trip to New York had been pushed forward when Snow had come running into her house shouting out that the evil queen had escaped. As saviour, and an additional deep rooted issue about meeting her parent’s expectations, Emma had agreed to stay behind and help, even when all she wanted to do was run as far away as possible. Looking at the faux wounded expression on her best friend’s evil persona, Emma thinks she should have high tailed it back then.

“And yet you didn’t bother to come find me once my better half ripped you from my arms” Her voice drops to a low and dangerous tone, the queen pushing off from the car to stand too close to Emma.

“How was I supposed to face you after being so _weak?_ ” Her voice trembles in the whisper it comes out as, Emma closing her eyes to turn away because she’s cried enough to last a lifetime, and in the face of her supposed enemy, surely there should be a line of dignity somewhere?

“Oh my naïve saviour” The queen whispers back, her tone gentle and caressing, fingers stroking down a blotchy cheek “You are not weak for having emotions, you are not weak for letting yourself feel angry, or hurt. If you stayed with him, let him eat you up from inside out after witnessing his true nature, _then_ I would have considered you nothing short of pathetic.” Emma’s left hand is brought up to the queen’s lips, a small kiss being pressed there where a ring should be, and its confirmation enough from what she’s gathered about the blonde’s love life.

“I _feel_ pathetic” Emma confesses, saying more than she has during silent hours with Archie her family insisted she continue.

“Evil queens don’t fall in love with pathetic people” And that statement makes Emma’s head jerk up to meet the queen’s eyes, green searching brown for a lie that she doesn’t find.

“Love?” Emma breathes, because surely she’s not worthy? After everything she had been through, after… all the hardships and self doubt, this has to be a joke.

“A glitch I’m none too happy about, but alas” The queen sighs, as if the feeling which makes her heart beat louder is a minor inconvenience instead of her entire world “Regina seems to have so much of it, splitting it in half doesn’t lessen it”

_Regina? Before the split?_

Emma chokes on the realisation, pulling back from the queen in shock. Why didn’t Regina tell her? Why did she hide it?

“Emma” The queen says softly, drawing her attention back to her with a gentle touch of her hand.

“But you- Robin, soul mate” Emma stutters, fingers gripping the queen’s arms too tight. Perhaps she simply isn’t ready to think about another relationship, but how long has she been pinning for the mayor and taking second best in the face of rejection? How many times had she walked up to the mansion with flowers in her hand only to toss it in the garden and pretend to have come over for Henry? She’s only just found her parents, their expectations of her obviously narrow enough to want her to marry a _pirate_ in order to have the fairy tale ending of a _man and children_. She can’t disappoint them, not again, not when her first attempt had broken their hearts.

“Shh” The queen sooths, running her fingers down Emma’s temple, taking her time in mapping out the saviour’s face to remember whilst she still can. “I have loved you from the moment you walked up to my door with that hideous jacket and tried to make _friends_ with me. I’ve never felt so alive as when you stepped up to the plate and challenged me like no one has in the last however many years. I was dormant, Emma, you made me _feel_ again.”

The queen knows that such a confession can get thrown in her face, after all she’s exposing her rawest truth and making herself vulnerable, but when Emma’s fingers slide across the nape of her neck, the monarch simply allows herself to be pulled forward and a kiss to be pressed to her cheek.

“I wish I was ready to say it back, but I don’t know what that means anymore” Emma whispers against her skin, pulling back when their proximity becomes too much for her to bear.

Sniffing as subtly as possible, the queen pulls back out of their intimate bubble and presses a vial of red and yellow into Emma’s palm. “Bottled true love, sprinkle a little over your sleeping parents and their curse will be broken.”

“How did you…?”

“Gold isn’t paying much attention to his shop with his son’s return, and Henry asked me to fix what I broke. I’ll do anything for the people I love” The fact that the queen stares directly into Emma’s eyes as she says this has the blonde flick her eyes down to the vial, her superpower confirming that what’s in there is what the queen says it is- and _the other thing_ , the thing with too much emotion to ever feel like it belongs to her.

“Thank you” The vial is tucked away in her pocket, eyes refusing to meet the queen’s even if the other woman’s dramatic exit was due minutes ago. There’s a soft sigh that has her look up curiously, and what she hears has her breath hitch.

“You’re worth the wait, saviour, you always were” A plume of purple makes Emma choke, her hand hovering in mid-air from where she had briefly touched a hand and gripped too tightly to pull out one of its rings, the large sapphire glinting in the afternoon sun.

* * *

 

Regina’s eyes never stray from the ring on Emma’s middle finger, the jewel awfully big and contrasting with its darkness against the pale skin of the sheriff. She knows that ring, knows where it had come from; and the light in Emma’s eyes are all too telling.

Hadn’t she woken up all those weeks ago to check in on her guest to find the bedroom empty? Hadn’t she searched high and low for the woman only to find her pressed against her other half in a hold that made her _jealous?_

Her throat constricts with frustrated tears because essentially the queen and her are the same person, but Emma favours the darkness over the light, and the fact that she had split herself to be worthy of Snow and David despite her supposed heartbreak over Robin’s death doesn’t matter anymore.

“It is what she says it is” Regina confirms, handing back the vial that had been under scrutiny for a day now, Regina stewing in her own passive aggressiveness to try and find something wrong with the potion, but to no avail.

Emma’s grateful smile that has been returning to what it once was is offered to her with such casualness that Regina wants to hold onto the moment forever, but its quickly broken when potion is thrown on the Charming’s bed, twin gasps making Regina turn around with a snarl.

“Regina? Regina wait!” And it’s too late to escape, to break something in the face of her evil half’s victory over fixing her wrongs. Is it too much to ask to suffer quietly?

“Yes, Miss Swan?”

The responding wince from Emma doesn’t go unnoticed, but with the privacy of the loft stairs, green door closed behind them, Emma finally allows herself to **feel**. _It isn’t weak if you have feelings_ , the queen had said- amongst other things.

“Why did you walk out?” Emma asks, voice hard, eyes narrowing at the mayor.

“Because” Regina grits out, fists curling at her sides, her trembling hands and red eyes reminding Emma so much about the night the tame mayor had sworn at her ex-fiancé and protected her so fiercely.

“Because what?” She’s pushing her luck, but their chests bump, Emma taller than the mayor without her usual height of heels, but the vein in Regina’s forehead looks just about to burst, and if Emma can help Regina come to terms with a few things, then it’s the least she can do for her best friend slash forever crush.

“Because she has no right!” Regina bursts out, fists shaking, the door rattling behind them with her magic “She’s seducing you can’t you see?!”

“She saved me from a relationship I was too scared to leave!” Emma barks back, not backing down in the face of a fight a few weeks ago she would have been petrified to encourage.

“Because she wants you to herself, Emma!” Regina tries to desperately explain, her voice taking on a pleading tone.

“And _you_ don’t?!” **That** makes Regina gape at the saviour for a few seconds before it turns to fury at being pushed aside for her evil half, at being too slow and gentle to fight for what she wants.

They don’t notice the door opening, Snow and David staring at them as they breathe down each other’s throats, eyes wet and lips stretched into thin lines. So much unsaid between them, so little not exposed, and all the Charmings can do is watch as everything builds up to a point of no return.

“What do you care? You’ve been busy with that pirate for so long to even notice that he-”

“Looks like a male version of you? Wears too much eyeliner, too much leather? Has a tragic backstory with a dead lover? You think I didn’t notice? Why do you think I convinced myself to love him in the first place?!”

Snow gasps, David clutches her shoulders to pull her back inside but it’s too late. Regina’s eyes are blown wide, realisation dawning on her.

Emma steps back alarmed, eyes darting between Regina and her parents because everything has been ripped apart and nothing can put it together again. So she runs, runs down the stairs and into the street to get away from everything as fast as possible.

* * *

 

“Get in” Emma hisses, tears stinging her eyes and a plea hidden in the harsh demand.

The queen for her part looks surprised, shocked that Emma knew where to find her and now is ordering her to get into a yellow metal death trap that’s… quaint enough to have her gag. “No” she answers smoothly, putting her pride above this one, because she’s gotten too soft around a one Emma Swan in the name of _love_ of all things.

“I need you, and I need to get the hell away from this town, so you’re either coming or staying”

“And Henry?” The queen asks, sauntering over the car, painted fingernails running over the roof until they come into contact with Emma’s arm leaning against the side of the open door.

Emma seems to falter at that, shoulders drooping at the realisation that she was going to make a break for it, and the only thing she thought precious enough to take with her was the queen. Didn’t she do this with Hook when her entire family was dragged down to hell for her?

“Fine” she relents, eyes on her scuffed boots “Just out of town for a drink then. I feel like I can’t breathe”

Slender digits cup her cheek, cooling down the heated skin with the simple contact, and making Emma exhale a deep breath after holding it in for so long.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me” Emma whispers, her own fingers sliding over the queen’s still cupping her cheek, the ring she had accidentally taken a day earlier now catching the monarch’s eye. “I feel exposed here, like I’m supposed to be this _person_ for everyone and I can’t balance it, I can’t be what everyone wants me to be. Maybe I’m just n-not good enough”

“Hush!” The queen whispers back harshly, tilting Emma’s face up by her chin so that their gazes can lock “You are **more** than good enough.”

“You say that, but you don’t believe it. You’ve wanted to kill me since the moment I stepped foot in your town, and I bet you still do”

“Of course I still do!” The queen bites, “You’re the child of my nemesis and loving you goes against every instinct I harbour. Do you think this is _easy_ for me? Standing here, tending to your emotional wounds instead of ripping your heart out?”

“Then do it! Get it over with! I don’t want anymore games, I don’t want lies, I just-” Emma’s words are cut off with a hand to her throat, jewelled fingers pressing into sensitive tendons and hot breath skimming across her lips.

“Do you want to know the truth?” The queen asks, and Emma nods obediently, eyes drifting from lips to brown orbs, down over the straining arm that only holds her in place “Then how about you tell me a few of your own in payment?”

At this Emma stiffens, because being vulnerable is not something she likes, but if there’s a payoff, one she’s had to give for a bounty before Storybrooke and its hell, then surely she can do this too, right?

“Fine” The blonde spits, tone cutting and dry, lips pulling into a sneer. Just because she’s agreed, it doesn’t mean that she has to like it.

There’s the familiar pull of magic and they’re taken away from the openness of the town hall parking lot and dropped inside the mayor’s all too familiar office. Black and white contrasting just as neatly as their outfits do.

“Tell me saviour-” The queen begins, fingers stroking the blonde’s neck.

“Uh, uh” Emma tuts, pushing the queen off her “ _You_ first”

She’s thankful that they’re in an enclosed area, the shield of fear around this space providing enough privacy to lash out and yell until there’ll be nothing left between the two of them but skeletons of dust. Pushing the queen back a little further, this time with more force than necessary, Emma watches as the monarch slams into the armchair behind her, whiskey coloured hues narrowing at the treatment.

“Who are you?” Emma asks, pacing in front of the seated creature, arms crossed and eyes hard.

“Oh my, going for the difficult questions are we?” The queen taunts, placing her hands on the armrests at either side of her, providing an open posture for the blonde who looks too guarded.

At the dirty look the saviour throws her, the queen leans forward slightly and begins to speak, no barriers in her answers this time “I am the queen of the enchanted forest, alter ego to Regina Mills, mastermind behind Leopold White’s murder, arch nemesis of Snow White, killer of Graham and countless others, protector of Regina and whatever innocence she may have left…. Mother to Henry Mills. I’m a woman who never wanted to rule alone, and has found in the _saviour_ someone worth fighting for”

Her lap is occupied then, rough hands pushing her further back into the armchair and angry eyes eating her up as her coat is torn open and hair pulled from its updo. Its an undressing that’s neither romantic nor careful, instead, it feels as if every armour she has on its pulled apart by barbaric beasts that only want to devour her. Still, the queen makes no move to stop the blonde heaving with angry pants and loosing momentum when she struggles with the corset ties that tangle around her fingers.

“I don’t know who I am!” Emma says brokenly, “And you’re not her, even without… even without your ridiculous clothes and everything” she makes a wild gesture down the queen’s body “I don’t know what to do anymore!”

The queen’s arms encase the woman once she falls onto the brunette’s chest, her hands rubbing up and down a leather clad back to sooth through tears that fall hotly on her naked skin. There’s no more silk to cover up her chest, the corset beginning too low down, and so Emma’s face is effectively pillowed on her cleavage that’s rapidly filling up with her tears.

“What do you want, Emma?”

“The truth” Comes the immediate answer, and the queen can only sigh.

“Henry was the first thing since arriving to Storybrooke that I loved wholeheartedly. He brought me so much joy, and then he found out he was adopted, got that godforsaken book, and pulled you from your life to save us all. I’m not a woman that needs saving, Miss Swan, but stuck in a redundant curse with a ten year old that doesn’t need you anymore can drive anyone mad. I was afraid, yes, but other than you trying to take away my son, I was _exhilarated._ You became my everything even in times where there was nothing, and believe me” she chuckles, running her fingers through blonde curls “there were so many moments of **nothing** ”

Emma exhales dejectedly, fists curling further into the open silk coat that feels too soft and expensive to be treated so poorly “If you love me all this time, then why now? Why when… when you’re not her- not Madame Mayor?”

The queen closes her eyes against the mass of blonde on her chest, both of them seeking comfort from each other for entirely different reasons. The question asked has the queen consider her answer carefully, words slow and deliberate as she delivers them.

“Regina has this irritating martyr complex that drives me insane. It’s degrading and dark… it told us that we were never good enough for you, that even the pirate didn’t commit half the crimes we did, and so he deserved a chance. When you grew to be happy with him, our traitorous hearts stepped aside because that smile on your face was everything we desired… and then that smile faded. If Regina didn’t give you that potion, then I would have found a way to make you see who the man you were about to marry truly was. I know it’s cruel, but I’m built to be that way aren’t I?”

“Did I see you the same way- when I had that potion, I mean?” Emma husks, eyes closing against the soothing sensation of fingers combing through her hair, ignoring the rhetorical question that would launch them both into an argument she hasn’t the energy to involve herself in.

“You did” The queen answers honestly “And you would have seen the darkness, my weakness for the things I love, and my obvious flaws. Why you’re not running away from me I will never understand”

“Because I love you”

The retort has both Emma and the queen stiffen in response, Emma attempting to run from her problems by pushing up from the queen, and the brunette searching desperately to see whether it isn’t a lie fabricated to hurt her.

“What?” The monarch asks, cupping still wet cheeks.

“I didn’t-” Emma protests, but is quickly cut off by the look in the queen’s eyes that speak of hurt and deep rooted pain.

“You promised to be honest, saviour” She reminds the blonde, her eyes softening just slightly “I can’t help you if you keep everything bottled up inside”

“I love you, okay?!” Emma shouts, swiping under her eyes harshly “Is that what you want to hear? Or do you want to hear about how I just want to pack up in the middle of the night and run away because it’s what I’m good at?! Better to leave before anyone can leave me, right?”

“Or how about the fact that I sometimes don’t feel like Henry is mine? He’ll always be hers and everything about him screams Regina! He says he loves me, but how can you love someone who abandoned you?! L-look at Snow and David, I don’t know how to love them, to look at them and be _okay_ with what they did even if it was for the good of the kingdom! Who does that?! Who _throws_ away a baby because of a fucking curse?! They look at me like it’s my fault I grew up! They had another baby to start over! Made me feel like I’m **NOTHING!** I h-hate them!”

Like an angry force at life, Emma’s sobs are harsh and not exactly there, just teasing beneath the surface of what actually lies in that still lake which looks far more beautiful under its eerie surface than others can appreciate. The queen does, she appreciates the raw emotion that speak of bitter truths and wild theories, of passion and hatred, of all the things she would have loved to manipulate to her will had her heart not beat for the creature on her lap.

“Tell me why you got engaged to Captain Hook” The queen asks gently, licking her lips free of the harsh red that’s partially smudged from Emma’s previous manhandling.

“Because he was easy” Emma sneers, looking more like the dark one than Regina or the queen has ever seen her “Because he chased and chased no matter how far I pushed him, so desperate for love, for someone that was connected to Milah, to Neal… I had his almost son’s _son_. I was as close as he was going to get, the only other relative to his lost family being the man he wanted to kill in the first place, yeah? And my parents thought he wasn’t good enough, _you_ didn’t think he was good enough, and _that_ was good enough for me. Who else would want to be with me beside someone not worthy? And then… eventually people accepted him, went to fucking hell for him all because they thought I deserved someone like him. How ironic is that? Even **YOU** told me to go, to bring him back, to find my happiness with that pirate because he was worth more than all of you combined”

“You thought wrong. He was _nothing_ , and I chained myself to him without even knowing it”

“And me?” The queen asks, swallowing thickly when Emma leans in a little too close, voice coming down from its high screeching volume to something depreciating and all too familiar. Emma’s on a roll, and the queen isn’t a fool to stop her now “What about me?”

Emma takes her time to consider, fingertips lightly trailing down the queen’s face “You… you don’t expect anything from me” she says softly, eyes trained on her fingers as it traces patterns on milky skin “If I wanted to flatten this town tomorrow, you wouldn’t judge me, you would… talk me out of it? Help me? I don’t really know, but what I _do_ know is that there’s never any weight in your eyes when you look at me. It reminds me of who I used to be, of someone who was free. I miss being **free** , I miss being unrestrained. I was the dark one for fucks sake and still people couldn’t just let me be, couldn’t see that they failed in everything. I was only good when I was trying to save hook, not when I hadn’t killed people even if the urge was so fucking high. At least with you I feel like me, _Emma_. I just want to be **me** again”

Resting her forehead against the queen’s, Emma takes in shuddering breaths, her body sliding down until she’s nestled against the queen’s side more comfortably, looking disturbingly smaller than ever. Emma cries openly then, rivers of salty water that accompany painful sobs, and the queen holds on tightly, a lump in the monarch’s throat at being worthy enough for someone, at being loved despite her darkness that so many have cast aside because it simply wasn’t desirable. She can count on one hand the amount of people who felt safe with her, and to be told that she’s a haven for freedom has the queen practically melt into the _what if’s_ of a relationship that had once tortured her with its thoughts.

The creaking of the wooden door has the queen look up in surprise, eyes narrowing at the sight of herself standing there in her haphazardly matched clothes, bags under her eyes and an uncertainty that makes her a little bit furious. “Emma” The mayor says, pushing further into the office and closing the door behind her with a soft _snick._

“She doesn’t want to talk to you” The queen says possessively, shielding the blonde woman away from the mayor who approaches with her hands raised in surrender. The fact that she’s not dead is only on account of the connection between her other half, and for that Regina is slightly thankful.

“Emma, look at me. We have to leave. It’s not safe with her”

“You took me away from her in the first place” Emma rasps, clinging even more tightly to the queen “You lied to me a-all those years, at least she isn’t holding anything back!” Regina kneels down by the armchair to better see Emma’s face pressed against the queen’s breast, her fingers curling around the armrest to help hold her upright.

“I shouldn’t have blurted out my feelings like that, Emma. I’m sorry. I know you just came out of a relationship with Hook, and to have another one… I was insensitive and-” She’s cut off by the feeling of harsh fingers weaving through her hair, tugging on the strands until her chin is turned upwards to gaze into the almost black eyes of the queen.

“Why is everything about you” The monarch sneers “Have you asked Emma what she wants? Whether she even wants you at all? You’re nothing but a spoiled princess”

“I am more than that” Regina spits, her grip on the queen’s wrist just as harsh as the one in her hair “I care about her”

“Me, me, me, me, me.” The queen mocks, moving to lean over the mayor, Emma jostled from her position to gaze at the two halves almost longingly. “What do you want, _Em-ma?_ ” The monarch asks, her eyes glaring into her other half’s whilst she strokes the saviours back gently, trying to ease the hiccups left over from the blonde’s sobs.

“I want to be bad” She answers in a whisper, eyes dropping to her lap guiltily, the end of her sleeve wiping away smudged eyeliner she attempted to put on that morning. “I want **my** happiness, just for me. Not for Mum and Dad, not for Henry, not for this town, just for _me_. I want to be selfish and wrong, and all the things they would scream at me for choosing this. I just… I want to be so very bad”

She looks at the queen when she says this, a small smile blooming on her face because she can see it now. She can see the house, the neatly trimmed garden, another child perhaps…. Lazy Sunday mornings, early weekdays, sexy Saturdays. Its all there, and so she leans forward to capture it, pink lips pressing against stained red ones, palms cupping either side of the queen’s face as she pours all her love into the kiss, her first kiss since the night Hook had taken her against her explicit consent, since he took her and tore her to pieces when she had already been broken.

She’s not whole, she possibly won’t be for some time to come, but the pages stuck together in her book is gently easing apart and she can see herself now, she can see what she wants. She can finally live and not exist because the queen who was brave enough to want her, to love her is patient, and somewhat dark enough to understand the worst parts of her.

There’s a muffled sob that reaches her ears once Emma pulls free from the queen and rests against her with a breathless sort of relief, it’s the sort of sob that speaks of helplessness and loss, one… one Emma swallows with another kiss, only this one is soft and desperate, as if there isn’t enough air in the room and Emma possess it all. Regina’s hair feels silky under her touch, and her back may be bent over to try and reach the woman kneeling on the floor, but its everything that she’s expected it to be, and nothing all at once. This is being bad, this is being so terribly selfish, and Emma loves it.

“I’m not compromising myself anymore” Emma declares, thumb tracing a tear that falls from Regina’s cheek once she’s pulled away.  

“I don’t understand” the mayor says, eyes wet and filled with confusion. She’s sure Emma doesn’t love her, doesn’t want her the way she wanted Hook, the way she wants her other half now. Perhaps villains really are Emma’s thing, and for so long, Regina hasn’t been that, has never been qualified enough to catch that saviour’s interest.

“Find an antidote, don’t find an antidote, I don’t care. I loved Regina when she was whole, I love the queen now that she’s split, and I love you because you’re just as important to me as she is. I only want you to learn to love yourself, just the same way that I am”

The queen releases Regina to pull the saviour to her, a wet laugh escaping her lips as she peppers kisses to the side of Emma’s face “Always the saviour even when you’re trying to be bad”

Emma laughs too, pulls Regina up into the armchair until the three of them are squashed in the small space, the queen holding onto the mayor as she angles herself to take up residence on one of her thighs. It’s poetic if Emma stops to think about it; the way they cling to each other as they pay attention to her, laughing and crying and kissing with affection.

She doesn’t need romance to make her feel loved, or cherished, but what Emma does need is someone to support her without judgement, to walk a journey with her that’s a little rough, someone who will challenge her and not change her.

Cuddled up on an armchair with two pieces of the woman she had fantasied about loving, the ring pulled from her finger with _“Not yet princess, but someday”,_ playful shoves, teasing nips of teeth and insane laughter, Emma has never felt more safe, more understood, more like herself than she has in a very long time.

It’s a feeling she’s willing to be bad for, to be selfish for, and if she wasn’t thankful for the turbulent events that happened to lead her up to this very moment, then Emma’s grateful she’s been through it all, that she asked for that potion in the first place and saw a monster who slept in her bed, a protector who needn’t have been cast aside, and a love that’s been pinning for her just as much as she’s been pinning for it.

And in the end of everything, the saviour knows she’s going to be okay, that she is never going to compromise herself to be accepted anymore. She’s strong enough to say: This is who I am, this is who I love, and no one is going to tell me otherwise.

**End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all my readers for your kudos & comments, its been a really rocky ride with this fic considering the content and how I struggled at the end of this last instalment to try and make everything authentic. I know it was a bit long, but... I couldn't cut anything out of this, so sorry for that.
> 
> Some may be a little disappointed that I didn't resolve the split. I wanted to, but essentially this is a story about Emma and the queen helping her come to a realisation about certain things pertaining to (at first) her relationship with Hook, and other members of the town that have been essentially stripping her of her own identity. If I resolved the split or focused too much on Regina's story, then I would have been taking away from Emma, and I wasn't prepared to do that. Just know that she worked with them to find an antidote, or just got into a polygamous relationship with them. Be happy, imagine things.
> 
> If you find any inconsistencies, please do not hesitate to let me know, I'll try and fix it asap.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading, let me know what you thought of this piece and the way it was handled. Criticism will only help me.


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